sometimes
ficlet on demand
Title: Sometimes
Pairing: Mac/Flack
Rating: FRT
Disclaim: Me no own
Prompt: M/F “Officer Blue”-related, from motioncity44
Sometimes Mac slips a little and forgets exactly how young Flack is. Between the blunt demeanor and genuine skill with both witnesses and suspects it’s not that hard to do.
To the best of Mac’s knowledge the violence has yet to touch Flack immediately, but maybe it has. When Mac arrived at Central Park, Flack’s voice had held an edge of panic, and ever since Mac’s had a difficult time pushing the echo of that alarm from his own head.
And now, here, in Sullivan’s, Flack sits next to him, eyes bright with alcohol and hands full of expansive gestures, and he looks even younger than he is. Mac himself is carefully tipsy and knows it, but he’d wanted to placate the sheer disgust the case had opened inside him.
What’s worse, he’s not sure where Stella’s gone off to.
Mac swallows the last of his scotch and tries to remember himself at Flack’s age. The reference doesn’t hold, but the alcohol brings him the illusion of warmth.
Stella’d almost been pleased at their little argument, had said something to him about letting his heart out of his chest every now and then. Mac scans the bar as best he can from their booth, but he can’t spot her. He has to tell her something before he forgets. He’s not entirely sure what he needs to tell her, just that he does. He tries to fix it in his brain, but he’s just drunk enough he might forget it, or forget how important it is.
Flack is leaning on an elbow and watching him closely, watching him the way he watches a witness rather than a suspect. With carefully measured sympathy.
And Mac may be more drunk than he thinks, because he’s not sure how long the two of them have been in this booth, alone and silent. “Where’d Stella go?” he asks.
“Dunno,” Flack murmurs. “Bathroom?”
He’s had enough of Flack’s attention. “I’m gonna find her.” Mac gets up, a little careful in his movements when the floor suddenly seems so far below him. He looks over the front of the bar then heads to the back.
He doesn’t immediately realize that he’s been followed.
“Flack?” He looks like he got lost on his way to somewhere else, and Mac worries he might have some version of the same look on his own face. “You okay?”
Flack frowns. “Yeah.” He looks around the dim back hall then his eyes light up. “I need a cigarette.” He brushes past Mac to slip out the back, and before the door closes after him, Mac catches it and follows. Maybe the cold air will clear his head.
Flack takes a drag and looks at Mac the way he did when they were still inside. “You okay?”
Mac nods. “I just need to wake up a little.”
They stand in silence. The alley is full of the usual debris, bits of paper, broken glass, cigarette butts. Flack’s eyes are still on him, looking for something. Some reassurance, though Mac’s not sure why he thinks this.
Flack finishes his smoke, adds the butt to the others on the ground, and steps closer to Mac. “You awake yet?”
Mac takes a deep breath and seriously considers the question before him. “Yeah.”
Flack tilts his head. “You don’t sound too sure.” He moves in slow enough that Mac sees it coming.
The kiss is sure but soft. Soft as a substitute for hesitant because Flack wouldn’t hesitate once he’d made up his mind to do something like this. Mac reaches up to his neck. It’s a little strange to be kissing someone taller than himself, but everything else is nice. Mac deepens the kiss, enjoys the friction of tongue and stubble for a moment before they separate. Flack sighs, and it’s the sound people make when they’re looking for words. “Sometimes…”
Mac closes his eyes and traces the side of the face in front of him. “Sometimes you just need to forget.”
Flack drops his forehead to Mac’s shoulder and laughs a little. “Funny, I was going to say sometimes you need to remember.” The hand at Mac’s waist tugs at his shirt.
There’s a noise from inside and Flack steps away. His cheeks are flushed. He clears his throat, and when he looks at Mac his eyes are clear. “Not here?”
“Not here,” he agrees.
“Wanna come back to my place then.”
Flack doesn’t bother to make it a question, but Mac nods anyway.
............
thanks for reading; feedback always appreciated
Title: Sometimes
Pairing: Mac/Flack
Rating: FRT
Disclaim: Me no own
Prompt: M/F “Officer Blue”-related, from motioncity44
Sometimes Mac slips a little and forgets exactly how young Flack is. Between the blunt demeanor and genuine skill with both witnesses and suspects it’s not that hard to do.
To the best of Mac’s knowledge the violence has yet to touch Flack immediately, but maybe it has. When Mac arrived at Central Park, Flack’s voice had held an edge of panic, and ever since Mac’s had a difficult time pushing the echo of that alarm from his own head.
And now, here, in Sullivan’s, Flack sits next to him, eyes bright with alcohol and hands full of expansive gestures, and he looks even younger than he is. Mac himself is carefully tipsy and knows it, but he’d wanted to placate the sheer disgust the case had opened inside him.
What’s worse, he’s not sure where Stella’s gone off to.
Mac swallows the last of his scotch and tries to remember himself at Flack’s age. The reference doesn’t hold, but the alcohol brings him the illusion of warmth.
Stella’d almost been pleased at their little argument, had said something to him about letting his heart out of his chest every now and then. Mac scans the bar as best he can from their booth, but he can’t spot her. He has to tell her something before he forgets. He’s not entirely sure what he needs to tell her, just that he does. He tries to fix it in his brain, but he’s just drunk enough he might forget it, or forget how important it is.
Flack is leaning on an elbow and watching him closely, watching him the way he watches a witness rather than a suspect. With carefully measured sympathy.
And Mac may be more drunk than he thinks, because he’s not sure how long the two of them have been in this booth, alone and silent. “Where’d Stella go?” he asks.
“Dunno,” Flack murmurs. “Bathroom?”
He’s had enough of Flack’s attention. “I’m gonna find her.” Mac gets up, a little careful in his movements when the floor suddenly seems so far below him. He looks over the front of the bar then heads to the back.
He doesn’t immediately realize that he’s been followed.
“Flack?” He looks like he got lost on his way to somewhere else, and Mac worries he might have some version of the same look on his own face. “You okay?”
Flack frowns. “Yeah.” He looks around the dim back hall then his eyes light up. “I need a cigarette.” He brushes past Mac to slip out the back, and before the door closes after him, Mac catches it and follows. Maybe the cold air will clear his head.
Flack takes a drag and looks at Mac the way he did when they were still inside. “You okay?”
Mac nods. “I just need to wake up a little.”
They stand in silence. The alley is full of the usual debris, bits of paper, broken glass, cigarette butts. Flack’s eyes are still on him, looking for something. Some reassurance, though Mac’s not sure why he thinks this.
Flack finishes his smoke, adds the butt to the others on the ground, and steps closer to Mac. “You awake yet?”
Mac takes a deep breath and seriously considers the question before him. “Yeah.”
Flack tilts his head. “You don’t sound too sure.” He moves in slow enough that Mac sees it coming.
The kiss is sure but soft. Soft as a substitute for hesitant because Flack wouldn’t hesitate once he’d made up his mind to do something like this. Mac reaches up to his neck. It’s a little strange to be kissing someone taller than himself, but everything else is nice. Mac deepens the kiss, enjoys the friction of tongue and stubble for a moment before they separate. Flack sighs, and it’s the sound people make when they’re looking for words. “Sometimes…”
Mac closes his eyes and traces the side of the face in front of him. “Sometimes you just need to forget.”
Flack drops his forehead to Mac’s shoulder and laughs a little. “Funny, I was going to say sometimes you need to remember.” The hand at Mac’s waist tugs at his shirt.
There’s a noise from inside and Flack steps away. His cheeks are flushed. He clears his throat, and when he looks at Mac his eyes are clear. “Not here?”
“Not here,” he agrees.
“Wanna come back to my place then.”
Flack doesn’t bother to make it a question, but Mac nods anyway.
............
thanks for reading; feedback always appreciated